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Out there echoes the brokeness of my situation.
It crashes the house oblivious to the shattering person inside.
The trees how they yield for mercy, begging to be spared.
Helpless are we to save them.
As he was to salvage me.
Agitated currents force unrest below the stones.
Invisible fists lay waste to my sweet plastic pots for spring planting.
The nascent air–bitter instigator of material tears–shoves and pushes into massive tantrums.

Not here.
Thank God, as I can’t take anymore breaking.
Inside, my squatting flesh reverberates with leftover aches.
Old blunders once a spiral of mad air.
Winter’s wilding beyond the anchor of a little brown desk.
Where his feet once rested on my knees.

I have conspired with a literary den-of-thieves to make you desire Them
To entwine your soul in Their stronghold of rampant lust and brute strength
Inescapable wide-eyed innocence will burn away the layers of mistrust
One decadent love bite to draw out your pulsing demons–
those that made your flesh crawl and quiver, long before They arrived
By high mindedness of the amber moon chained by gravity–
I call to sisters across ocean and earth
Fly beyond otherworldly barriers–
keep your diaphanous forms from heaving bound werewolves
I summon, for both your sake and mine
You see, they were born of necessity and likened to mankind’s crucible–
monsters, beasts, leviathans, introverts, extroverts, banshees
Welcome Their rounded limbs to engorge your body with Godlike fear
Wretch you will, over and again until there is nothing to the insides
but your blood
As Her beautiful teeth impale your flesh, you float among the stars
You collapse, the agony of life fades into a dull memory
The tide eventually finds you and we float into the universe
Aren’t they worth dying for…

they say Fridays are good for fornicating but not for posting on Social MediaSM asideI cannot care the words pressing against my brain are going to burst my fucking capillariesif I don’t shoot them out my itchy trigger fingers I’m doomed
torment is attempting to snake up my spine though I adore sidling reptiles
ever since I held that gorgeous velvet albino anaconda in fourth grade
now snakes are endangered tooif it blindsides me in a gallant rush of crimson blood, I’m ready for doomed no overwhelming fear herewhen you have kids you imagine leaping in front of the gunthey liveyou don’tI’m okay with this outcome, this is lifecalm collective of a natural or unnatural endthe problemtoo many yanking the ripcord at both endsI’ve know for quite some time about dyingwhen you live with an elderly person, it makes the idea of un-being easiermy heart has taken on a personality all its owna tragic character in some romantic playmaybe a comedyshe fades to black, scene four I’m not depressednot at allrather realistic and ready
are we climate warming, are we going Armageddon-style
shit, I guess it’s going to be hot either way
why can’t it be water
I so love swimming
there is nothing like claiming peace underwaterI vote for clean water if still available
don’t want to drown in dirty icecap overflow

you have changedso different from what I rememberbut it’s me, isn’t itthe one who has changedI’m a practicing fear-less nowso damn tired of being afraiddon’t want to hurtdon’t want to worrybut there is no way of wearing fiercewithout pushing ahead forcefullyand youI’m trying not to leave behindour toes were in the sandbox togetherthe wind, she’s blowing all our castles awaythere is natural sparkle in your eyeswhile my own eyes fight to shineI was there so long agobut you can only see me through the blinding brights of eighteenoh daughter, eighteen really sucks

this morning like so many other mornings
waiting for the sun to rise up and grant us
another opportunity to make it right
anything or anyone we may have wronged
or perhaps
more in the drama of later moonlight
the subtle possibility
we might make something of ourselves
while we are gifted here to earth
gravity holding us
balancing our bodies
we can’t do it alone
we are
each like a small sparkle
brighter than starlight
if you believe in such frivolous gaiety

I for one do not
you see
I am illuminated with dark thoughts
I am a lying pessimist
yearning for the truth of optimism
in a world peppered with road rage salt
silly in fact am I
that I would compose such a lifeless line
seasoned with black and white culinary fare
thinking how clever
how wise
three of them
one of me
guided by northern light
yea I can keep going with this crap
like I said
I am illuminated with dark thoughts
brightened only by the singular prospect
of you
in you

I am a most excellent liar
for I am not a lying pessimist
in truth
I am an eternal optimist
I am a gut-wrenching lame ass
I do believe in humanity
I do believe that behind words
cast like fishermen nets
people dwell
behind all the world’s false twinkling
the light of some truth bleeds out
through infinitesimal skin scrapes
the largest wounds

why do I believe myself an optimist
my one technological treasure
in the 1980’s when VCRs were introduced
many adults fancied themselves harbingers of theatrical doom
“there go the movie houses”
“there die our cinematic experiences”
a lame ass heart quietly rallied
the same lame ass heart always praying for white Christmases
to this day
“my local theatre won’t go out of business people need people”
“people need people”
“we want to enjoy experiences together”
“hear laughter”
“communally sob – not sad alone”
“clap”
“eat popcorn and slurp giants”
“we want to suck face in the back row”
“hold hands in the middle”
“wait for his arm to wrap my shoulder”

I am a most excellent liar
fooling my own heart into believing
if I can do this
it will bleed out
others will sense my fake joy
they might smile
it will start
this morning like so many other mornings
waiting for the sun to rise up and grant us
another opportunity to make it right
there is a sneaking warmth
creeping like crackling fire
and Christmas snow

perhaps if we all spoke in simple languagerather than tonguesif we gazed with eyesrather than expectationswhat if we sang together with voices clearfrenzied rants quietly meltingif we opened ourselves to listeningblocking programmed retortsthis seasonimposes upon usthe choice of reflectionthe challenge of changein ourselves we can create magicgenuine magica mystical presence of benevolencespirited on by a collective desireto wrap our world in peacethe simplest of giftsdifficult to embraceyet within our graspall we need dois listen to earth’s languagelife

she wakesnot entirely welcoming her long lifemanaging through the tedious daysnot advocating movementyetrefusing to dieand unwilling to live

she wakesjoyful of her slow moving parts each day, an experience to be relishedzest and nectar swallowedrefusing to dieand unwilling to desist

she wakesexhausted from her 1 am outing anxious and thrilledriding youth’s learning curverefusing to slackand unwilling to fail

she wakesfierce observer of loverallying the weakcheering the intrepidguiding the pliableunwilling to rest

they sleepshe waves wishes and dreams their wayhopes and prayers each nightfloating above
every woman’s existencetheir journey ofchoices

meanwhilebeneath her daughter’s pillow, like a fairy’s quarter she chooses
to hide every chance
she never took…

Caroline Hands Crossed

my beautiful daughter is graduating high school this evening
as I watch her and the older folks very close to me move about their lives
I realize how many choices continue to present themselves each day
the choice to push your body when it’s in pain
the choice to give in and give up
the choice to have a new, fabulous life
the choice to realize you can’t help those unwilling to help themselves

I wish for my daughter all the wonderment of life
may she be happy, may she never fear this world

and congratulations to all whose children are graduating
thank you
am:)

to get beneath that skin of hersand force it perfectI need her to understandshe is beautifulI need her to see her entiretyto stop doing what young girls donot love themselves completelypermit shiny surfacesand slick inkto render their forms inferior

these cultures of ourscomposed of humanitybut populated by shallow eyesand deep pocketsshould not so easily crawlinto young ears like robotic insectsand sting frail esteemthese young girls are all breathtaking
if we give them some spacethey could stop hiding below hard waterand come up for air

Tell me how you make it look so easy They follow you like puppy dogs that, I cannot do I’m the one in the corner watching all the tails wag If we were in Rome they’d be your dancing harem I’d be off in the market flattening papyrus or washing sand from between my ink-covered toesForlorn
drawn today while subbing